From The Desk of Etta James:
"Sunday, Feb. 22, 2009. Afternoon. Watched Oscar red-carpet. Read in Us Weekly that Jessica Biel's stylist wanted her to start the day with a hike and a sauna; noted that lack of mention of scheduled shower time might explain her coif problems. Suspect stylist should not have said that out loud to a reporter. Saw that cow Beyonce doing her thing, waving her stupid hand, holding her stupid robot pose where her other arm doesn't touch the rest of her body. Took vitamins with shot of tequila. Nice to see that, at last, Beyonce's dress sense has not come along. HA HA. I slay me. Looks like she took a black gown and did a brass rubbing over it. Paid pizza delivery boy. Still can't fathom why that Beyonce diva is toting a tuffet around behind her. Who does she think she is, Little Miss Muffet? I wish she would Little Miss MUFFLE-It! DAMN, Etta, you are on fire tonight. If that woman sings so much as ONE LINE of my song at the Oscars, vow to throw knives at my damn wall. HATE."
"Sunday, Feb. 22, 2009. Late evening. Woke up from rage-induced coma. Now spackling holes in the wall. Plan to send disrespectful strumpet a care package of curds and whey with a tarantula in it. Must remember to water plants. Also, add arsenic to curds. Just to keep it interesting."
"Sunday, Feb. 22, 2009. Afternoon. Watched Oscar red-carpet. Read in Us Weekly that Jessica Biel's stylist wanted her to start the day with a hike and a sauna; noted that lack of mention of scheduled shower time might explain her coif problems. Suspect stylist should not have said that out loud to a reporter. Saw that cow Beyonce doing her thing, waving her stupid hand, holding her stupid robot pose where her other arm doesn't touch the rest of her body. Took vitamins with shot of tequila. Nice to see that, at last, Beyonce's dress sense has not come along. HA HA. I slay me. Looks like she took a black gown and did a brass rubbing over it. Paid pizza delivery boy. Still can't fathom why that Beyonce diva is toting a tuffet around behind her. Who does she think she is, Little Miss Muffet? I wish she would Little Miss MUFFLE-It! DAMN, Etta, you are on fire tonight. If that woman sings so much as ONE LINE of my song at the Oscars, vow to throw knives at my damn wall. HATE."
"Sunday, Feb. 22, 2009. Late evening. Woke up from rage-induced coma. Now spackling holes in the wall. Plan to send disrespectful strumpet a care package of curds and whey with a tarantula in it. Must remember to water plants. Also, add arsenic to curds. Just to keep it interesting."
